


The Cupcake Cupid

by destimushi



Series: The Cupcake Verse [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baker Castiel (Supernatural), Baking, Blow Jobs, Destiel Valentine's Mini Bang, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Pie, Porn with Feelings, Rockstar Dean, Valentine's Day, cas is vulnerable, feels in my porn, porny artwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 15:45:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13662141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destimushi/pseuds/destimushi
Summary: The door swings open before Dean can knock. Cas—wearing a sky blue button-down shirt, soft, black jeans, and an arrogant smirk—greets him. “Hello, Dean.”“Heya, Cas,” Dean greets.A strong hand fists the front of his shirt and yanks him through the door. The kiss is hot and demanding—a touch desperate—and it consumes Dean like wildfire. Cas shoves him against the door, slamming him into the solid wood as it bangs shut, and greedy fingers thread through his hair. Dean blinks, his jaw slack from shock, and Cas doesn’t miss a beat as he flicks his tongue along Dean’s lips.Cas pulls Dean’s bottom lip between his teeth, then lets go with a lazy, satisfied smile. “Welcome to my humble abode.”When Cas asks Dean over for dinner on Valentine's Day, Dean doesn't know what to make of it. But he goes anyway because he'll take any chance to see Cas again.





	The Cupcake Cupid

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and thanks to everyone that's been following this little series! I decided to enter the next part in the [DESTIEL VALENTINE'S MINI BANG](http://destielvalentinesminibang.tumblr.com/) in the spirit of Valentine's Day. 
> 
> At the end of the story is a wonderful and VERY NSFW piece of artwork done by the amazing [Cryptomoon](http://space-wolf.com/). Please go check out her artwork and give her some love! 
> 
> Things get a bit more feels-y here, but it's Valentine's Day and these two idiots are allowed to be fluffy cheesy once in a while ;D!

_ Hello, Dean. Will you be in town this Wednesday? _

_ Yeah. We’re  _ _ gonna _ _ be recording there for the next few weeks. Why? _

_ Would you like to join me for dinner?  _

_ Sounds like a party. _

When Dean agreed to have dinner at Cas’ place a week ago, he didn’t know today—Wednesday—is Valentine’s Day. A hasty trip to the mall and a box of chocolates later, Dean’s standing in front of Cas’ building door, dressed to impress. He enters the buzzer code. Three rings, a click, the intercom crackles, and a familiar gruff voice warms him like a shot of whiskey. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me,” Dean says. 

“Come on up.” A loud buzz followed by a click. Dean pushes open the heavy door and steps into the  dimly  lit lobby. 

He punches the up button for the elevator and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. Truth is, Dean isn’t  really  sure what to make of this dinner, it being on Valentine’s Day and all. Is he and Cas an item now? Who the hell even uses the term item these days? Jeez, Winchester, get with the times. 

The elevator arrives and the metal doors whisper open. Dean steps in, punches the floor number Cas texted him earlier, and the butterflies are back fluttering up a storm before the doors slide shut. 

He doesn’t know what Cas is to him except being with Cas  feels right. Liberating and secure and grounding all at once. Dean doesn’t know what he is to Cas either, and even with this uncertainty between them, it’s never awkward. At least, not the way they’ve been texting since Christmas. 

Dean’s cheeks heat at  the remembrance of their last bout of texts, which included some very not safe for work photo exchanges. If the paparazzi got their  hands on that ... Dean inhales  deeply  and shakes his head. That’s the other thing about Cas; Dean trusts him implicitly , and anyone with two working brain cells would tell him that’s stupid and dangerous. 

Then again, Dean didn’t get to where he is today by playing it safe, and he knows, on some inexplicable level, that Cas will never betray him. 

The elevator spits Dean out, its doors shutting  quietly  behind him as he gathers his wits. He can ponder all these things on his own time.  Right now, he ’s here to see Cas, and after the shitty week he’s had at the recording studio, this dinner is the only thing that’s kept him going. 

The door swings open before Dean can knock. Cas—wearing a sky blue button-down shirt, soft, black jeans, and an arrogant smirk—greets him. “Hello, Dean.” 

“ Heya , Cas,” Dean greets. 

A strong hand fists the front of his shirt and yanks him through the door. The kiss is hot and demanding—a touch desperate—and it consumes Dean like wildfire. Cas shoves him against the door, slamming him into the solid wood as it bangs shut, and greedy fingers thread through his hair. Dean blinks, his jaw slack from shock, and Cas doesn’t miss a beat as he flicks his tongue along Dean’s lips. 

The first lick awakens something in Dean, and he drops the box of chocolate to wrap his arms around Cas’ torso, fingers digging into fabric and the flesh underneath. Cas gasps from pain or something else. Dean doesn’t know or care. All that matters is the solid press of Cas’ body, the taste of his mouth, and the sting of Cas’ nails as they drag across his scalp. 

Cas pulls Dean’s bottom lip between his teeth, then lets go with a lazy, satisfied smile. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

“If you greet me like that every time, I’m coming over every fucking day.” 

“Wouldn’t you like that,” Cas says and  takes a step back , then  bends over and picks up the abandoned heart-shaped box wrapped in red and gold paper. “You got me a gift? Does this make me your Valentine?”

Dean rolls his eyes, his cheeks burning even hotter as he slaps a  hand on the back of his neck and squeezes. “I guess? But you invited me over for dinner so that makes me  _ your _ Valentine.” 

Cas laughs—a full-bodied rumble unlike rolling thunder—and beckons as he turns down the hallway. “I hope you like cheeseburgers and fries.”

“I  happen to  love cheeseburgers and fries.” Dean kicks off his shoes and follows Cas into a modest living room. “Did you stalk an interview or something? 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Cas disappears into the galley kitchen. “Take a seat.  I’ll be right out.”

Dean shrugs out of his jacket and takes a seat at the small dinner table by the kitchen. Cas pulls a tray of burger patties and another tray of fries from the oven, no doubt warming and waiting for Dean to show up. 

The aroma of spiced beef and fried potatoes assaults Dean like a physical punch, and his stomach files a loud and rumbling complaint. 

“Hungry?” Cas calls  over his shoulder with a smirk.

“Always.” 

Cas’ blue eyes darken, and Dean swallows before tearing his gaze away. It’s so  _ easy _ to fall down that hole with Cas sometimes. Dean should find it terrifying, but he doesn’t, and  _ that _ should  definitely  scare him. 

Two plates  plunk down on the wooden table, and Dean’s mouth waters at the leaning tower of a burger placed in front of him. Being on the road so much, and being the public figure he is, Dean has to watch his diet. Catered meals with precise calorie, fat, protein and carbohydrate counts. Occasionally, Dean just wants to let loose, hence why he stopped in the bakery all those months ago. 

Turns out, sometimes, giving into his cravings can lead to even more awesome things. 

The first bite of the burger is absolute heaven.  The beef is well-seasoned and cooked to perfection, the dressings fresh. Crisp lettuce,  thinly  sliced tomato, and Dean swears the ketchup tastes homemade. He pops a fry in his mouth, teeth breaking through the crispy skin to sink into the hot, fluffy, starchy  center . 

It’s a symphony of  flavours . A fucking grade A mouth- gasm . 

Dean moans, and he doesn’t notice Cas studying him until his half way through his burger. “And here you had me thinking that sex was your best quality.”

“You’re saying my cooking is better than my  cockring ?” Cas counters, and the glint of  humour returns to his serious eyes.  

Dean swallows as  heat crawls up his neck. “Speaking of which.  Been meaning to ask you. Why does a baker have a dick piercing?”

“What does my profession have anything to do with my sex life?” 

Dean shrugs. “I dunno, just doesn’t seem like the kinda thing a guy that makes cupcakes for a living would have.”

“And what kind of man would have a Prince Albert?” Cas cocks a brow at Dean and takes a bite of his burger. 

“ Uh , someone kinky?”

“You don’t think I’m kinky?”

Flashes of their Christmas phone conversation chases heat across Dean’s cheeks, and  suddenly  the room’s way too hot and Dean’s pants grow and an inch too tight. “Did you always know you wanted to open a bakery?” He clears his throat and hopes the change of  subject isn’t too obvious . 

The amused glint in Cas’ eyes says he knows  exactly  what Dean’s doing. “No, it was not my life’s ambition to own a bakery.” 

“No?”

“It was my brother’s.” 

“Does he run the place with you?”

“No, he’s dead.”

Those three little words grind the conversation to a halt even as Dean’s mind races a hundred miles an hour trying to process them. He wants to ask, and he almost does, but the twitch in Cas’ jaw and the crease between his brows stop him. Cas looks as startled as Dean  feels , and for the first time since they met, Dean dares to think  maybe Cas isn’t as in control as he appears. 

Dean doesn’t pry, and the silence stretch like a blanket until it wraps around them. The moment of awkwardness wanders off to make way for something a little more relaxed, and Cas asks Dean about his new album. 

The rest of dinner passes in companionable  chit-chat . Dean doesn’t mind as he talks about how he got into the music industry and about that time he let a woman talk him into trying on women’s panties. Cas’ eyebrows flew way up, and the  smoldering , longing look in his narrowing blue eyes was worth the gut-wrenching confession. 

“So what’s for dessert?” Dean leans back in his chair and rubs his stomach.  Maybe the second helping of fries was a bad idea, but they are so damn good. 

“I haven’t decided yet,” Cas says as he collects the dishes and puts then in the dishwasher. “Thought I’d let you pick.”

“Anything I want?”

“Yes, Dean, anything,” Cas says, then adds after a beat of silence, “as long as it’s not me.” 

Dean snorts and taps his bottom lip, staring up at the ceiling. The distinctive  flavour of that apple pie pound cake from two months ago tickles the edges of his memory, and Dean’s mouth waters. “How ‘bout apple pie? ”

“I can make fancier things than that.” Cas leans against the dishwasher and crosses his arms. 

“But I like apple pie.”

“Okay. If you want to put on some coffee, I can start on the dough.”

Cas pulls on a white apron and Dean looks away when he cinches it around his waist. For a baker, Cas is  _ thick _ in all the right ways. Dean makes a mental note to ask Cas about his workout routine one of these days because  _ damn _ . 

Dean busies himself with the coffee machine, dumping pre-ground coffee into the filter and pushing the brew button. He steals a glance at Cas and his mouth dries. Cas is kneading dough, and the muscles of his forearms twitch and shift,  mesmerizing . He looks up, and his eyes capture Dean in a flash of blue. 

Dean clears his throat and asks, “ Uh , can I, like help or something?”    

“You can peel the apples,” Cas says and points at the pile of Granny Smiths on the counter next to the kneading board. 

Dean grabs the peeler and picks up an apple. Cas goes back to working the dough, and silence descends upon them like pixie dust. It’s nice working with his hands,  feeling the grit of skinned apples and the heat of Cas’ body next to him as he kneads the dough into a smooth ball. 

“Excuse me—” Cas reaches past Dean for the cling wrap, his arm brushing against Dean’s. 

Dean shivers, and his body reminds him  just  how long it’s been since he’s had Cas’  hands on him. Physically . Cas glances at him, blue eyes dimmer than Dean expected, and the smile on his lips lacks its usual  luster . He wraps the dough ball in the plastic wrap before putting it in the fridge. 

Did Dean do something wrong? He swallows and opens his mouth, but the look in Cas’ eyes freezes the words on his tongue. Cas takes the apples Dean peeled, and he’s three apples into slicing before he says, “Thanks for coming to see me today, Dean. I know you’re busy.”

Dean blinks, and it takes a second for his brain to catch up. “Ah, no worries, man. Thanks for inviting  me out .”

“I…” Cas puts down the knife and turns to look at Dean, his expression unreadable. “I wasn’t sure if Valentine’s Day would have weirded  you out , but I  really  didn’t want to spend today alone.”

Dean frowns. This  feels like more than Cas being worried about a silly thing like Valentine’s Day. “What’s the matter?” He reaches out and runs his thumb along Cas’ cheek. 

Cas leans into the tough and sags against the counter as if whatever’s been holding him up all night just vanished into thin air. “Gabe—Gabriel, my brother. He  was killed on Valentine’s Day. Drive by shooting. I couldn't even be there for the funeral because—” Cas catches himself, his eyes hardening, his voice growing soft, and he stares at Dean. “Anyway, I opened the bakery for him.”

Dean shivers. For a second, it’s as if the Grim Reaper himself is staring at him. Cas blinks, and the moment passes as his unshed tears catch the soft kitchen light. Dean inhales slowly , his chest expanding as pain fills the cavity. He’s still not sure what this is between them, but he knows Cas needs him. Needed him enough to arrange for dinner, to risk whatever it is they have just so Dean can be here, at this moment, to hold him.

Before he  realizes what he’s doing, Dean closes the space between them in one desperate step and folds Cas in his arms. Cas shivers, a tremor so fleeting Dean almost imagines it, and he holds on tighter, hoping that whatever he has to give is enough. 

Cas’ arms snake around his waist and tighten in a crushing embrace. Dean cards his fingers through Cas’ dark, soft mop of hair and breathes in the faint fragrance of Cas’ shampoo. He wants to say he’s sorry, but if he were in Cas’ shoes, that’s the last thing he’d want to hear. 

Instead, he peppers kisses along the top of Cas’ head, his hands cupping Cas’ cheeks as his lips seek every inch of Cas’ soft skin. Cas tips his head back, locks his lips to Dean’s, and a soft moan ghosts against Dean’s tongue.  

Cas moves against him, his chest pressing into Dean’s as he tastes Dean’s mouth as if for the first time. Dean leans against the counter and lets Cas take his time, following Cas’ lead because right now he’s happy to give Cas whatever he needs. 

Time stops marching as Cas licks into Dean’s mouth, and his breathing grows more shallow with each sweet of tongue, each nip of teeth. Cas’ fingers loosen from Dean’s shirt to trace along the slope of Dean’s shoulders, down his back, then slips beneath the hem of his t-shirt. 

God, the heat of Cas’ hands spreads through Dean, a slow warmth that seeps beneath his skin. It’s so nice to  be touched , and it takes Dean a moment to remember that tonight isn’t about him. He pulls Cas’ hands away, groaning at the loss of contact, and flips them around until Cas’ back digs into the edge of the counter. 

“Hey,” Dean murmurs against the sharp angle of Cas’ jaw, his lips brushing over stubble. “I got you.” 

Cas leans his forehead against Dean’s, eyes bright and kiss-swollen lips glisten in the soft kitchen light. “Please, Dean—”

Dean brings a finger to Cas’ lips and latches onto the thin skin of his throat. Muscles shift against Dean’s mouth, and he smiles as he works his way down the elegant sweep of Cas’ neck and along his collar bone. Cas moans, each gasp more desperate than the last as they bounce off the warm walls of the kitchen, and his hands roam along Dean’s back and shoulders. 

Cas’ breath stutters on the exhale when Dean pops the first button on his shirt. Their eyes meet in the narrow space between them, and Cas nods as he sags against the counter. Dean doesn’t need further urging as he pops the rest of the buttons, his lips trailing down Cas’ chest, tongue dipping into the valleys of Cas’ toned abs until he’s mouthing at Cas’ waistband. 

Dean drops to his knees, and the look in Cas’ hooded eyes was all the permission he needs as he unbuttons Cas’ jeans and frees his cock. Cas is half-hard, but it doesn ' t take Dean long to coax him into full mast. It’s another lazy swipe of Dean’s tongue before Cas’ piercing glistens with saliva and pre-come. 

“God, Dean,” Cas moans and cards shaky fingers through Dean’s hair. “So fucking gorgeous.” 

Dean preens, cupping Cas’ balls as he kisses along the hard shaft. Cas smells like soap and clean sweat, his velvety skin scorching as Dean nuzzles and worships Cas’ hard cock until Cas’ thighs  are trembling . “You taste so good. So fucking good,” Dean mouths along the underside, teeth pulling at the barb, then leans back and swallows the spongy head. 

Cas curses. Rough fingers tangle in Dean’s hair. Nails scratch along his scalp, and Dean moans long and filthy as he takes the rest of Cas’ cock. The shaft throbs thick and heavy as it snugs down Dean’s throat, and Cas’ grip tighten as Dean looks up and catches Cas’ weighted gaze. 

Dean licks at the vein on the underside, and Cas mutters  a string of profanity as he pulls back then plunges back down. Time loses its grip on Dean, and he doesn’t know how long he stays on his knees, his mouth and tongue milking and coaxing until Cas comes with a shout. Thick ropes of come flood Dean’s mouth and throat, and despite his best efforts, a trickle blurts from the corner of his lips. 

Cas’ knees buckle and he crumples to the floor. Dean kisses the corner of his mouth, and Cas chases Dean’s lips until they’re laying tangled on the floor. “Your turn,” Cas says as he pulls back from the lazy kiss.

“No,” Dean says. “Tonight isn’t about me.”   

Cas stares at Dean for a long moment. “Well, let me make you that pie at least.”

“I can get behind that.” 

It’s another few lazy kisses before Cas rolls away from Dean with a groan and hops to his feet. He pulls out a large pan and sets it over medium heat. Carefully , he layers sliced apples and sugar and cinnamon in the pan.

The aroma of butter and sugar and tart apples permeate the air, but Dean has long stopped caring about the pie as he settles in his front seat view of Cas in his element. Dean watches Cas roll out the pie dough, watches the shift of solid muscle beneath supple skin. Watches as Cas’ every roll of the pin restores his confidence and equilibrium. Dean’s cock twitches with interest despite his best efforts to ignore it. Fuck.  

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says over his shoulder as Dean hooks his chin there. 

“Hey, babe,” Dean mumbles against Cas’ neck. He thought he’d be okay with getting Cas off, but there’s something  inexplicably  sexy about the way Cas works with his hands that has Dean  _ wanting. _ “I ... I want you. So bad.”

“Dean…” Cas’ fingers pause on the edge of the pie shell. “Make love to me .” He turns and brushes Dean’s lips with a hesitant kiss and smiles when Dean nods with a chuckle.  

“Okay, Cas. Okay.” 

They make love right there against the edge of the counter, wrapped up in the sweetness of cooked apples and cinnamon. Dean rolls his hips into Cas as he nips sharp little kisses along the slope of Cas’ shoulder and the back of his neck,  savouring the tight heat of Cas’ body with each languid thrust. Cas presses his back into Dean’s chest, his hips canting to take Dean deeper.  

Maybe Cas is just looking to forget.  Maybe Dean’s just looking to belong. It doesn’t matter why they came together, only that they find solace in every embrace and every kiss. Dean  doesn’t need to know what he is to Cas,  doesn’t need to put a label on what Cas is to him. Not when Cas is panting his name and clinging to Dean like his life depends on it. 

Something passes between them. Something Dean never dared to hope for all those months ago when he walked into that bakery. It’s exhilarating and terrifying and Dean wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Soft, breathless gasps and slurred murmurs of endearment echo in the small kitchen, chases away uncertainty and bitter memories. Dean bites into the meat of Cas’ shoulder, they come undone together, and the forgotten pie shell bears witness to the start of a new chapter in both their lives.    


End file.
